THE STORIES OF LOVE AND DREAMS THAT PEPPER MY PURSUIT OF ME

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I am what I hate in men

I went to Matt Damon’s graduation dinner last night for his MBA. Quick recap: Matt Damon is one of those great guys I previously mentioned that I never allowed things to progress with. Yes, as currently discussed with Cindy and Cremello, risk of hurting him was too great. Traveling to Puerto Rico allowed me to avoid dealing with this situation. I suppose I believe it would dissipate; instead this is what has transpired:

Last time I was in New York, I truly enjoyed seeing him, which consists primarily of daytimes as we work from the same coffee shop in New York. I do love talking to him, and a dialog of whether I should give it a shot continues looping through my mind. However, in my gut, its not there . . . a lack of that sexual attraction, perhaps or my inability to see myself with him . . .

Regardless, during the last trip to the Island, I sent him an email containing some work-related mishaps we share during our days at the coffee shop and ended it with “I am thinking of you.” He responded “I wish I was there too – I can’t imagine anything more perfect than holding you on the beach right now. I’ll get down there soon enough” to which I responded, “I am imaging you here. I am so different here. I have been here all but three hours and I wish you knew the me that is here. I can’t wait for you to come. . . I don’t know why, but I am feeling inexplicably close to you these days . . “

Ok, I am an ASS.

In that moment, I did feel that. I promise. I could only think of all the conversations I love, the moments shared and didn’t think about how I was taking his heart into my possession. I am that horrible misleading girl. But I meant it

To which he respomded:

“So tell me about how Island Attainingme differs from New York Attainingme.

Does her lower lip still curl up when she pouts? Does she still look amazing when she’s dressed for a meeting? Does she still laugh at all her emails? Does she still tell ridiculously involved stories that make me smile in disbelief? Does she still look around aimlessly as she’s typing? Does she still sound impressive when she’s negotiating on the phone? Does she still look back at me sheepishly with her beautiful eyes after I kiss her? “

Ok, um . . rewind . . at this point, I will note in the very beginning of getting to know him was the only time, I “kissed” him. Since then, it’s been me avoiding attempts . . .

Like right this minute! I am back in New York, working from the coffee shop– he just walked in and attempted to peck me on my lips in front of his parents, I angled slightly, check/lip kiss. Is there a term for that?

Fuck!

Ok, the point of this post . .back to last night:

I walk into the restaurant. I am late. Everyone is seated. There are 20 people. Everyone is dressed up. I, in jeans, suede boots, black tank top, and Chloe silk jacket make my way awkwardly to the back of the restaurant as he introduces me to both tables. All faces register my name. His parents, luckily barely do so.

I sit at the smaller of the two formal tables, upon which a colleague of his asks me how it feels to meet the parents, etc, etc. . I was mortified. I knew this guy liked me, but 1) I didn’t realize how much every single friend of his knew who I was and 2) when I became the girlfriend.

Ok, so yes, I said some things that perhaps I should have kept to myself. I am guilty as charged. But, I believe his daydreams have taken over his reality. I am shocked. Literally.

Nothing “with legs” has transpired. I haven’t even had a dinner or hung out with him since July when I was initially getting to know him-also time of aforementioned kissing. I believe he has taken this one and run with it.

And I realize, and I think . . . of the times where the situation has been reversed. I, in his shoes. Hanging on the words spoken from a man. My heart fluttering. My dreams evolving. Images of us together.

And now, I realize as I have so many times before, that these men I lust after, feel how I have felt about others so many times before.

In these situations, I always plead for honesty. I know deep down, that anything short of effortless momentum, is not worth continuing. I know if I am not a priority to them, they are not crazy about me. Men I truly like, become priorities. However, even though I don’t get carried away with fantasies and am rooted in the reality, I always desire them ending any thoughts of a magic carpet ride. Brutal truths. I never receive them. And I recognize and admit shamefully, I do the same. I do so in an attempt to save someone’s ego. And while perhaps, I succeed, I yank their heart out and I twirl it around in my own twisted game of pin the tail on the donkey. Leaving an ego intact and a heart lost, stumbling to pin me. Why is it so fucking hard to tell them, I am not there. To tell them to abort their attempts.

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3 thoughts on “I am what I hate in men”

I think this goes back to the idea that we should ALWAYS verbally clarify with people when we THINK we are entering into “relationship” territory. It seems like the common denominator across all possible dating scenarios is the rule that you are not in a relationship until you both verbally agree that you are in a relationship.